Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
I wedge deeper under Raven One’s open cockpit hatch, a wrench clenched so hard in my fist that my knuckles ache. Sparks is a few steps behind me, crouched and ready to call out data readouts, while Tabitha flickers on a small console screen to my right. My pulse pounds from one too many cups of burnt coffee and a biting cocktail of stress.
We’ve been at it for hours, days. It feels like we’re chasing an invisible glitch, never quite close enough to tear it out by the roots.
It all started when we tried introducing the Vanguard AI, a combat intelligence module with its own set of predictive protocols, into Raven One’s existing system. On paper, hooking in a new subroutine didn’t sound too horrific. In practice, it fought tooth and nail with the code framework I’d built for Tabitha. At every turn, something jammed, spewed junk data, or twisted an otherwise normal servo command into a spectacular meltdown.
I sigh as I pull up the neural link logs on my datapad, beckoning Tabitha to guide me. “Tabi, show me the chunk we flagged at two in the morning. The third set of partial test results.”
“Someone’s feeling masochistic tonight,” Tabitha quips. A shimmering wave of text and debug readouts fill the datapad’s screen.
Sparks stifles a yawn. “If we don’t isolate the conflict between the pilot impulse feed and the Vanguard subroutine soon, this mech’s going to keep thinking a backward handspring is an acceptable evasive maneuver.”
My jaw tightens. Those backward handsprings, or pirouettes, as Tabitha likes to call them, nearly made me crack my head on Raven One’s inner console earlier. “I’ll take handsprings over the random servo locks,” I mutter. “At least I can bail out mid-flip without destroying half the cockpit.”
Sparks angles her head, brow furrowed. “Between Tabitha’s subroutines and the new predictive logic, it’s generating contradictory signals. One part of the code wants to pivot left. Another tries to pivot right. And if I had a credit for every time the system demanded a midair cartwheel?—”
Tabitha cuts in with faux indignation. “Excuse me, I’m not encouraging cartwheels. I only handle David’s personal HUD and day-to-day pilot assistance. It’s that cranky piece of combat AI, Vanguard, insisting we engage in interpretive dance.”
“Right, of course,” Sparks returns dryly. “Because you’re entirely innocent.”
I press the heels of my hands to my temples, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Let’s keep the bickering to a minimum, okay?”
A hush settles over us. Then, Tabitha remarks, “Seriously, David, your stress levels are through the roof. I’m not kidding. I can measure your heart rate spiking from here. If you pass out from frustration, who’s going to fix this mess?”
Or pilot the mech, I think. I inhale slowly. “We have to whip this AI into shape, Tabi. Vanguard can’t be left half-coded if we want Raven One to function in real combat.”
Sparks checks the servo control board dangling by her elbow. “I’ve done everything I can from the hardware side. The neural link sensors are reading your biometrics properly until that micro-latency spike. After that, it’s like a bad game of telephone in there. I’ll rewrite the interface logic again, see if I can?—”
“Patch it over?” I finish. “Yeah, but maybe we need a more fundamental fix. Something deeper than rewriting lines to patch holes.”
“Like rewriting half the core code.” Sparks’ lips twist in frustration. “At one in the morning. That’s bound to go well.”
Tabitha pipes up from the dedicated console. “At least we’re consistent in our madness. We’ve been up so late all week, I’m practically all that’s left of your brain capacity, David.”
I laugh, though it sounds hollow even to my ears. “Let’s do a quick run in the sim. Low power, minimal servo movement, to see if the lines we just changed did anything.” I glance at Sparks. “You in?”
She shrugs. “Let’s break it and find out.”
We reposition ourselves by the main console so we can watch the test. Sparks types furiously, overwriting lines of code while I toggle Raven One’s power system to test mode. A faint hum rattles the hangar’s overhead lights, ripple effects from the sputtering generator in the corner. I brace myself, waiting for the moment of truth.
“All right,” Sparks murmurs. “Sending a minimal throttle command.” She taps her screen. “Neural link is active. AI subroutine is standing by.”
“Tabitha, read off any anomalies as soon as they pop,” I instruct.
“You got it, boss.”
For a moment, I dare to hope. Raven One’s right arm twitches once, twice, and the servo joints make a slow, purposeful rotation. That’s a thousand times better than the spastic flailing we’d seen before. Sparks shoots me a triumphant grin, and relief creeps into my chest. However, before I can draw a full breath, an error beep screeches from the console. The screen garbles. A cascade of zeroes and error codes scroll so fast it’s nauseating.
“Shut it down, shut it down!” Sparks cries.
I lunge for the kill switch. The thrusters’ hum cuts out with a hiss, and the hangar falls silent except for my ragged breathing. “Damn it,” I spit, checking the console’s tiny readout for a clue. “We were so close. The new logic loaded fine, but somewhere, the link just tanked.”
Sparks exhales a string of curses that would make a mercenary proud. Tabitha offers a snort so human I almost forget she’s an AI. “For the record, David, your cursing could use some creativity. Should I compile an extended vocabulary list?”
I shoot the console an exasperated look. “I’ll manage.”
She hums. “Or I could load a ‘Don’t Kill David’ subroutine, so next time Raven One’s arm tries to fling you across the hangar, it’ll remember not to.”
Sparks’ gaze flicks to me. “At this rate, that might be our only solution.”
I frown. “We need Vanguard to have real autonomy in combat. Otherwise, why bother with a dedicated subroutine?”
Tabitha’s laughter is short and dry. “Habitual backflips aren’t autonomy. They’re grounds for a psych eval.”
Despite myself, I grin. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Time blurs into a haze of keystrokes, spliced code, and anxious reboots. Every half hour, we catch some new meltdown. Sparks and I triple-check logic loops while ignoring the way our vision blurs or how my neck cramps until it feels fused.
Tabitha contributes everything from sardonic one-liners to actual memory usage breakdowns, though even she hits the limits of her real-time capacity. The meltdown logs leave me wanting to slam my head against the console. The temptation grows each time we see the same glitch repeated in some new, infuriating form.
Eventually, Sparks tosses her pliers onto a metal tray with a clang , exhaustion etched into her face. “David, we have to call it off for tonight,” she mutters. “We’re risking meltdown, literally.” She gestures at the smoking wiring behind Raven One’s upper torso, where a half-scorched servo cap flickers ominously.
“An hour more,” I counter, though the weight on my eyelids reminded me how long we’d already been at it. “If we can isolate the stress spike?—”
Tabitha interrupts. “David, please don’t push yourself to the point of collapse. You’ve done that once already this week, and I’m not sure my circuits can handle another near-heart attack. I can run a heart-rate dampening algorithm, but it’ll feel weird.”
I rub my left temple, trying to knead away the throbbing headache. “Fine,” I concede. “One more small patch first, though. Sparks, can you open that last reference subroutine from the servo library?”
She nods, pulling it up on a well-worn laptop perched on a nearby crate. The buzzing overhead lights add a ghostly hum to the hangar’s stillness. My gaze drifts to the time readout. 11:54 p.m. Another day is nearly done, and we have almost nothing to show for it except more curses and a half-ruined servo brace.
Sparks types while I dictate fresh lines of code to force an alignment between the pilot biometrics feed and Vanguard’s predictive logic. If this works, we’ll see a stable read on the posture sensors. If not, we risk another meltdown. The tension makes it feel like we’re defusing a bomb.
“One more line,” I murmur, leaning over Sparks’ shoulder. “We’ve got to clamp the maximum rotation velocity.”
A bead of sweat slides down my brow, and I try to ignore the heat pooling in my cheeks. Being so close to Sparks probably shouldn’t make me self-conscious, but we’d rarely spent so much time pressed together in a single day outside the cockpit. She smells faintly like machine oil and something sharper, maybe leftover flux from soldering. She shoots me a sidelong look that I pretend not to notice.
“Okay,” Sparks announces. “That’s the last line. You sure you want to risk another test tonight? If a meltdown scorches that servo brace, we won’t have spares for days.”
I clench my jaw, frustration flaring again. “Yeah. We’re doing it. The Federation’s always sniffing for AI activity, and we have to run these heavier tests at night. Remember? If they pick up a weird AI load, we’re screwed. More reason to push now.”
She snorts. “Fine. Let’s do it before midnight. Tabitha, your readouts ready?”
Tabitha’s console screen winks. “I’m set, much as I can be.” Then, she adds, “David, be careful. If sparks fly, I’m shutting the system down.”
I nod. “Go for it, Sparks. Minimal throttle test. If we get a meltdown, kill it immediately.”
We brace ourselves. Sparks taps a command into the console. The overhead lights flicker. The neural link feed whirs to life in Raven One’s cockpit. This time, the mech’s arms move into a neutral guard stance, smooth and controlled. No random flailing, no half-completed twist.
“Not bad,” Sparks breathes.
Then, the left leg flexes. The servo motor releases a low whine. My heart hammers, expecting a glitch or an error beep. Instead, the mech sinks into a crouch, precisely as if bracing for recoil. A wave of cautious hope shoots through me. Is it actually following commands now?
“I see no anomalies on the feed,” Tabitha remarks. “Vanguard’s logic is stable. Zero swirl of error codes?—”
A sudden pop crackles across the console. The cockpit monitors spark bright, then go dark. A wisp of acrid smoke curls around the mech’s spine. Red error logs shriek on Sparks’ screen.
“Crap.” Sparks scrambles for the kill switch. The hum cuts out. Silence again.
I unleash a raw string of curses at the console. The words spill out, every frustrated syllable echoing off the hangar walls. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I finish, my chest heaving. I glare at the sorry remains of the power feed.
Sparks sets down her pliers too carefully, as if any sudden motion might cause a meltdown in her patience. Her scowl gives way to a grim, determined smile. “It will damn well work,” she growls. “Or we’ll teach this mech to beg for mercy.”
Tabitha deadpans from the side. “Wow, Sparks, you’re almost as scary as I am.”
Sparks laughs, though it holds no humor. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She pulls off her safety goggles and rakes a hand through her hair. “We’re rewriting that entire block tomorrow, David.”
I sink onto a nearby crate, my shoulders slumping. My head feels like it weighs a ton. “Yeah,” I mutter, voice thick with fatigue. “Tomorrow.”
A metallic clang at the far end of the hangar startles all three of us. In the gloom beyond the main workspace lights, a figure steps through the half-open side door. A low, gravelly voice calls, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone was getting strangled in here with all that cursing.”
The lights reveal Patch wearing his oil-stained coveralls. He pats the doorframe as if to warn it not to collapse on him.
I try to muster a friendly tone. “Hey, Patch. Didn’t expect you here this late.”
He shrugs crookedly. “Heard the racket from across the yard. You got a mouth on you, kid. I thought I taught you at least half those words, but you’ve gone and crafted a few new ones.”
Sparks snorts, stepping away from the console. “David’s cursing has hit a new level tonight.”
Patch ambles closer, studying the faded servo casing and the half-fried wiring harness behind Raven One’s torso. His eyes shine with curiosity, the look he always gets when he sniffs a challenging salvage job or some clever mechanical contraption.
“Not many people push half-functional hardware this far without burning the entire yard down.” He taps a knuckle against Raven One’s frame. “I gotta say, you’ve gone farther than I gave you credit for, David.”
I laugh hoarsely, grateful for his rough brand of praise. “It’s a messy combination. New AI modules and old servo arrays. We’re forging all the links ourselves, and it’s…” I trail off, gesturing at the swirl of wires and code that have consumed our night.
“Yeah,” Patch acknowledges. “I can smell the scorched insulation. I can also see you’re close to something real. Not sure what, but something.” He folds his arms. “So, you need any parts from my yard, you know who to talk to. I’ll keep an eye out for anything specialized that might help you avoid your next meltdown. For a fee, obviously.”
Tabitha chimes in from behind me. “Naturally. It’s always business with you, Patch.”
He angles his head as if searching for the source of the voice. “Tabitha, right? I’d greet you personally if you had a face.”
She snickers. “Trust me, I’m better without one.”
A grin tugs at Patch’s mouth before he glances at me. “Anyway, I’m heading out. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t set yourself on fire. Looks like you’re still in one piece, mostly.”
I peer at a small burn on my right forearm, courtesy of a sparking wire earlier. “Yeah, mostly.”
Patch takes a few steps away, then pauses. “Finish up quick, kid. You look like you’re about to keel over.” He hesitates, his voice softening. “But seriously, good job. You’re pushing every limit here, and I respect that.” He waves, then slips out through the side door.
His footsteps recede. For a moment, we stand there, absorbing Patch’s unexpected compliment. Sparks rubs the back of her neck. “I never thought I’d cheer for a half-ruined servo test, but at least we got a stable posture out of the left leg before everything blew.”
I exhale, forcing my shoulders to unlock from the tension they’d held since dawn. “A small step, but still a step. We’ll regroup tomorrow.” I scrunch my nose. “Or later today, I guess. I’m not sure I even know what day it is.”
Tabitha’s console flickers as though she’s rolling her eyes. “It’s almost midnight. So yes, you’re in tomorrow territory, doofus.”
“Then let’s crash,” Sparks decides, sounding relieved. “I can’t see straight anymore, and we’re only going to make bigger mistakes if we keep pushing code.”
I nod. My body aches from my stiff neck to the knot of anxiety sitting in my stomach. “Yeah, you’re right.”
She gives me a searching look. “You sure you’re okay?”
I swallow, trying not to dwell on the swirl of adrenaline still coursing through my veins. “I’ll live.” I force a small smile. “Thanks for sticking with me. Both of you.”
Sparks shrugs off my gratitude, but a faint flush colors her cheeks. “We’ll teach this mech to beg for mercy, remember?”
Tabitha coughs theatrically. “Begging for mercy is kind of my specialty. If Vanguard tries any more pirouettes, I might have to show it who’s boss.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Deal. Show it who’s boss in the morning. I can’t handle more code tonight.”
We power down the last of the diagnostic instruments, making sure the rickety generator is stable. Sparks gathers her tools, and I fumble through a half-lidded mental checklist to confirm we’d locked things up. The overhead lights dim to a faint orange glow, leaving Raven One’s silhouette looming over us, part proud machine, part rebellious child in need of discipline.
We step outside into the chill of the industrial moon’s night air. Valis’ smog-laden sky churns in dull red streaks, reflecting the distant city lights. I glimpse a faint glow from Patch’s yard, but it’s quiet there now, no clang of salvage or rummaging workers. Perhaps he’s retreated to the small shack he calls his office. Gratitude flickers in me. Patch has helped me more than once, though he never lets me forget it.
Sparks stretches with a groan, turning toward the small bunk area we’ve rigged inside the hangar. “I’m out. Don’t stay up all night beating yourself up, David. That AI can wait.”
She disappears into the cramped side room, leaving me to adjust the door’s security code. I stepped back to confirm that the lock beeps shut, then sink against the cool metal of the hangar’s exterior. My arms tremble, not from fear but sheer exhaustion. The world feels like it’s spinning. I close my eyes, letting the faint hum of Valis fill the silence.
Tabitha’s voice comes through my earpiece. “You really do need rest. Want me to lull you to sleep with some data on servo alignment algorithms?”
I almost laugh. “Weirdly enough, that might work.”
“Hey,” she murmurs. “We’ll try again tomorrow. I promise I won’t let Vanguard break your spine with another pirouette, okay?”
I muster a tiny smile. “Deal.”
She pauses. “You’re doing good work, David.”
Her words tug a knot of emotion, but I force it down. “Thanks, Tabi. Good night. Or morning, or whatever this is.”
“Night,” she replies.
I push off the wall and stumbled into the bunk area. The small cot pressed against a row of crates is a sorry excuse for a bed, but it feels like heaven when I slump onto it. Soreness flares through my body.
For a fleeting moment, I imagine Raven One in perfect working order. No meltdown, no fiasco. Merely a swift, graceful mech guided by its pilot and a stable AI. We’ll tear through any challenge the universe lobs our way.
Soon.We’re closer than we think. Only a few more lines of code…
Fatigue swallows me before I can dwell further. My mind drifts into a realm of half-formed dreams, somewhere between cartwheeling mechs and scolding AIs. Even in sleep, I cling to the stubborn belief that after we tame Vanguard, nothing can stop us.
For the first time in weeks, hope flutters as I drift off, trusting that tomorrow, no, today , we’ll inch one step closer to victory.